


Lost Ones Weeping

by CyberSearcher



Series: Moving Forward [8]
Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types
Genre: Flashbacks, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Tron is Confused by Users
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-19 20:33:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19363699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyberSearcher/pseuds/CyberSearcher
Summary: After a missadventure involving a leftover alarm tag, Tron sees a small User in the crowd of mall-goers which strikes him as Wrong.





	Lost Ones Weeping

**Author's Note:**

> I stg the hardest part about writing these is the tittle. :p
> 
> Also sorta a sequel to 'Mall Episode'. Just lettin' you know.

Given how many Users seem to focus on him in this particular outfit, Tron spares a moment to change back into the clothes Alan gifted him. This dispels most of the extra eyes once he steps back into view, but he can still see how they glance and mumble when they pass. Quorra - he makes note to thank her later - doesn’t continue to pause and browse as they make their way to the cashiers even as her eyes catch onto numerous other models and clothes. 

The transactions are simple enough and they go off without any altercations. Until he realizes Quorra isn’t dressed in the same clothes she’s entered in. She’s wearing the same blouse and pants from the mannequin they passed by the entrance. Judging by the cashiers confusion, she notices it too.

“Um, m’am?” She says. “You’re going to have to change out of those before I can process them.”

“Oh.” Quorra finally takes notice of the small paper tag dangling off of her sleeve, pinching it between her fingers. “Sorry. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Dashing out of the line and back towards the change rooms, Tron is left by his lonesome, shifting his feet as he tries to guess if he should let the other Users go about their business or just wait where he is. But eventually decided to just give up his position, he can sense how impatient they’re growing behind him. So he religates to waiting by the tail end of the line.

Once the ISO does return, Tron sees how she makes beeline towards the front. “Quorra, Quorra I… I’m back here.”

“Tron? Why didn’t you stay in the front?” She asks. 

“I didn’t want them to wait.” He says. Tron can tell that she’s questioning that line of though. “It wouldn’t be appropriate.” 

“I’m pretty sure you could keep the spot.” Quorra thinks. “It’s not inappropriate. At least, I don’t think it is. A lot of User do it.” 

“But I’m not a User.” He counters. 

The ISO just raises an eyebrow at him. “So?” 

The Security Program can understand where Quorra’s mindset comes from, having lived with Kevin for so long - and he tries not to think too hard on that fact. Though he judges that having a debate on the levels of reverence ascribed to Users in the middle of a crowded sector isn’t the wisest idea.

“Nevermind,” he dismisses, “it isn’t a good time.” Now with her purchases gathered and packed, Tron thanks the cashier as he gathers the separate bags in his arms as they make their way to the front. 

Though as they pass through the entrance, the pulse of an alarm rings through the air. 

“Move!” 

He almost jumps three feet at the sound. The Monitor drops the bag in an instant, practically dragging Quorra out of the way while his free arm is raised to his back. When he realizes he has no weapon to draw, he raises his arms and braces himself for an attacker. The ISO, to her credit, follows in suit and falls into a defensive stance. 

The alarms haven’t stopped and Tron can’t pinpoint the threat. Whatever indications there are for dangerous Users don’t register in time and Tron’s eyes dart across the sea of bystanders who’ve taken a notice to the same alarm. He can already feel the slice of a beam katana across his shell, the blow of a punch and the maneuvers to dodge and subdue. But none of them react with the same frantic scurrying Program do when they hear the warning call of an attack.

In fact, none of them are inclined toward acting. They simply continue to go about their business as if the alarms were just a passing breeze. The only User who seems even inclined to do anything are the cashiers by the front, who seem to be arguing abong one another. Eventually, one just point to the Program and ISO, mouths something and one of the workers shrugs before turning towards them.

“M’am, can I see your bags?” He asks. “We forgot to remove a security tag.” 

“Tag?” 

**::::**

Tron wants to shove his face down the collar of his sweater and hibernate for the next million cycles. 

It isn’t an exaggeration. As he sits, waiting for the ISO to come back from the food court, he wonders if any of the Users around him are still laughing behind his back. He keeps himself compressed against his seat as he flips through his dictionary, trying to bury the memory under new vocabulary. 

But he still can’t quell the desire to keep watch and Tron falls back into his habit of ‘people watching’ as Sam put it. Alternating between his book and the passers by, he keeps tabs of who passes, what they carry and where they enter and exit. It’s a flurry of movement that strikes him as achingly familiar, with the addition of all the extra colours, smells and sounds the User’s world brings.

Until he noticed the child, wandering in circles within the crowd. 

He’s so small, it’s no wonder he’s washed away by the ongoing traffic. He’s buffeted against the people as he shoves his way across the circular floorspace. Tron tracks him as he moves - with no parent, guardian or figure to speak of - following him. Taking refuge against the sides of the escalator, the Program sees how the little boy curls forward and buries his head into folded arms and pressed knees, clutching something close to his chest. 

Tron’s already halfway out of his chair before he pauses to think. Perhaps he should just wait, perhaps the child's parents are closer than he assumes. Risking another misunderstanding could lead to more trouble. 

But he’s already dismissing the arguments as he’s already making his way to the child’s side, crouching by his level trying to shield him from the crowd. Even if he has little to no idea what he’s doing - something he’s picking up from Sam - Tron won’t ignore his directives. Despite the potential humiliation.

“My name is… is Tron.” He says, hoping to draw the child’s attention. “I’m here to help.”  
It’s not unlike arriving to the scene of a grid bug attack or a security breach, minus the exploding or crashing light cycles and flying Disks. He does manage to grab the child's attention, who looks up through watery eyes and hiccuping breath. 

“Tron?” He asks. “You’re really Tron?”

He’s seen other User’s confused when they hear his name, though the Programs never understood why. “Yes, that’s my name. Who are you?”

“B-Benjamin. I’m 8.” He sniffles. “You’re really the Tron? The Champion of the Grid?” 

The recollection of his former title is enough to stun the Program, followed by rushed panic as he tries to come to terms with how such a young User would know that. Though Benjamin’s expression immediately re-lights from grief to joy, springing up and squeezing the item held to his chest even closer. 

A plastic figurine which bears an incredibly familiar pattern of blue lights.

Benjamin is bouncing from heel to heel now, pure joy in his smile.“You’re him! You’re Tron! You fight for the Users!” 

“Yes,” He says hesitantly, “yes. I’m that Tron.”

Even if it’s true - even if it _was_ true - Tron doesn’t know how to proceed with how much this User knows. “But you can’t tell anyone, okay? It’s a… a secret.” 

“I promise!” Benjamin nods vigorously. “I won’t tell anyone. Not even the MCP!” 

It’s a bold claim and this time Tron can’t help but find it charming. “You’re very brave.” He smiles. “But where are your parents?”

“My parents didn’t bring me here. My dumb brother did and he left me to go play with his other friends.” He pouts. “Eric said he would come back but it’s been forever!”

“What?” Tron starts. “Why? Aren’t U- aren’t people supposed to look out for one another?”. Even Flynn had - he thinks - legitimate reasons to leave the Grid so often. 

“I don’t know. Eric is just really dumb.” Benjamin kicks art the ground in frustration. “He’s just a big jerk… don’t tell him I said that.” He smiles sheepishly and the Programs frustration at the elder brother dissolves, now replaced with new resolve to take his responsibility.

“You can stay with me until he comes back. I’ll do my best to keep you safe.” Tron promises, hoping Quorra takes a while to return.

“Really!” 

Tron nods in affirmation and suddenly the little User is crying out again. The reaction is so sudden it makes him jerk back in alarm. But them Benjamin is flinging his arms around his neck and squeeing about how excited he is to have _‘-the coolest hero ever as my babysitter!’_. Seeing the enthusiasm at his presence is both a refreshing and odd hit of nostalgia, leaving him to replay memories of driving down a shining blue Grid while other Programs on the street cheered at his passing. 

Benjamin already has one of his hands, tugging him towards one of the stalls. “I wanna go to the comic shop! I saw you on one of the covers!” 

“Of course.” 

Keeping track of the little User was almost a task in of itself once they’d entered the shop. He ran back and forth between rows upon rows of shelves, easily eclipsed by the stacks of comic books. Tron also didn’t miss some of the odd glances he’d get from other Users, no doubt for the ‘uncanny’ resemblance. 

Quickly fishing around and calculating the appropriate about of money for the small stack of comics on the counter, Tron looks back up to see this cashier unabashedly gapping at him. It takes Benjamins whining for them to leave that snaps him out. But not before requesting a picture, which the Program politely declined. 

“This is awesome!” Ben happily kicks his legs against the side of the small indoor fountain he sits on, leaning with his nose practically touching the pages and his Tron figure standing at his side, “I wish I could drive a Light Cycle.”

This particular comic seems to be a retelling of his, Ram and Flynns’ first adventure together. With the trio posed heroically and in clear view of the looming pillar of the MCP, the definition of defiance. The artist even manages to capture the cocksure nonchalance in Flynns smile and the mischievous and daring light in Ram’s eyes. 

Maybe he’s just projecting it, Tron isn’t sure. But it feels good to see the three of them together again. 

He stands with a long enough berth from the fountain, none too keen on getting too close to the splash radius. Keeping watch of Benjamin from a short distance while searching the crowds for anyone who bears some sort of resemblance to the child. But Tron is sure to keep the majority of his attention on Benjamin.

It’s good that he does. As the child flips to the next page, his elbow knocks the statue of himself into the fountain. Benjamin tries to reach behind him, trying to pluck him out of the water, but the child's arms are far too short and his balance doesn’t hold.Tron doesn’t hesitate to pull Benjamin away from the edge. 

But my miscalculation or an overabundance of zeal, Tron finds himself pitching forward in the Users place. What makes it worse, is that his forehead bangs against the edge of the curving edge of stone where the water spills over and collects into the pool below. All his senses go into overdrive and simultaneously phase out as his body falls back under the surface- 

_as wind rushes past, the sudden rush of cold, his helmet flooding with raw code masquerading as cloying, pervasive liquid, squeezed by the pressure and sparking circuit as he falls to the bottom, frozen, stuck reliving how he failed his Users twice-_

“-ron? Tron!”

The world around him reallings, tugged from the water by the back of his shirt. He falls to his knees, coughing and hacking out any stray liquid still clogging his shell. Tron’s hand immediately slaps itself against his cheek and prays that the makeup hasn’t washed off. His entire body is cold and damp, the feeling too familiar and too painful to linger on.

“Tron?”

“Tron!”

Dual voices call out his name and suddenly there are hands on him again - on his _back_ again. He jolts up, then sags when he sees mating expression of sadness and fear on both Quorra and Benjamin. The Program swallows hard.  
“I-what happened? What did I do?” He asks tentatively, hoping nobody was hurt. 

“Nothing.” Quorra states, then continues when hs expression reads of confusion, “I heard you yelling and I found this User trying to pull you out.” She gestures to Benjamin. 

The smaller User is almost halfway to tears. “Tron I’m so sorry! If I didn’t let my toy fall in you wouldn't hit your head and now you’re mad at me and I’m sorry-”

“No!” He yells, it’s more force that he means, but it stops the Users guilty rambling. “No it’s… it’s okay. I’m okay. I’m not mad at you Benjamin.” 

It isn’t a lie, but Tron doesn’t miss the tic in Quorras cheek that tell him she knows he isn’t ‘okay’. 

The smaller User cautiously inches forward, sitting on his knees infront of the Program. “Are you sure? Doesn’t your head hurt?”

Probing the area with a finger does bring upon a dull ache, but it isn’t crackling with exposed energy at least. He stands, cringing at the puddle at his feet. “Yes, I mean no! No my head is fine.”

That make Benjamins shoulders bounce while he giggles. “You’re funnier than you are in the comics. You should tell them that!” Then his eyes go wide. “You should write the comics!”

“Maybe I will.” Tron entertains the idea, silly as it may be.

“Does he-” Quorra almost asks. To which Tron gives the barest shake of his head. 

“Ben? Ben! Where the hell is he?”

The trio turn to see a boy with a tight bun followed by a small crew of half a dozen kids. The one at the forefront yelling out the smaller Users name. Tron looks down to see Benjamin visibly deflate.

“I think I have to go now.” He sighs.

Tron knew that would be inevitable, but it still saddens the Program to see the new User leave. But…  
“Wait.” Tron says. “I’d like to meet your brother.”

“Yea! That’d be awesome!” Benjamin encourages. “You can show him how cool you are! He keeps saying you’re boring.”

Quorra laughs quietly behind his back, Tron just shoots her a half meaning glare. 

Once Benjamin starts towards his brother, Tron is sure to meet Eric’s eyes. Once he does and the older brother looks down to see Benjamin, he meets them halfway.

“What the hell are you doing with him? I told you to stay in the food court!” Eric yells. 

Benjamin just crosses his arms and smirks. “That’s Tron and he’s way cooler then you. And you didn’t tell me to stay anywhere!”

“Yes, I did. You just didn’t listen!”

“No-uh.”

“Yes-uh!”

“Regardless,” Tron cuts in, his voice enough to draw the groups collective attention. It’s still an uncomfortable feeling, but at least its fewer eyes, “you should be ashamed Eric. Your brother is your responsibility and he could’ve been hurt or lost if I hadn’t found him. Or worse, if it was someone other than me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do when you fell into a fountain.” Eric bites back.

The most the insult does is aggravate him. Thankfully, the Security Program has experience in dealing with brash Users. Though to Kevin’s credit, at least he had good intent.

“And don’t be stupid Ben, that isn’t-”

Tron narrows his eyes in a silent challenge, then once he has eye contact, points with his line of vision to the comic. The dismissiveness on his face is quickly overwritten by confusion, shock, before solidifying into disbelief and fear. Eric seems to finally look at him with a critical eye. And if the unwarranted bath did any good, the wet turtleneck does little to hide the defined plains of muscles across his arms and chest.  
His other friends take visible steps back once they realize it too. Tron deems the threat neutralized and crouches back down to Benjamin's level. “Make sure he doesn’t tell anyone. Got it?”

“Yes sir!” Benjamin salutes with a grin. 

The duo begin to make their way back into the crowd of mallgowers. And Tron spares one last glance behind him. Benjamin is waving both his new comics and his figurine in the air, still smiling as he walks away.

“You made a new friend?” Quorra asks, watching them leave with equal fondness. 

“Yes,” Tron smiles and waves back, “I think I did.”


End file.
